carnivale: airing my clean laundry

This week's Carnivale topic comes from my girl Danielle:

I want to invite anyone who wants to join to describe that favourite outfit that you always like to wear still warm from the dryer. Bonus points if you've got pictures! What does your outfit say about you?

Let's take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?

I've been working since I was 10. My first job was as a incognito shoplifting spy at my dad's grocery store. My second job was running the laundry facility at my dad's hotel when I was in high school.

Yes, it's almost as glamorous as you imagine. I'd run all the washers at once, fold the previous loads, then run all the dryers in one go and go sit in a corner to sketch evening gowns while listening to hiphop and grunge out of a beat-up radio. After all the pristine white sheets and fluffy towels were done drying, I'd dump them all in a rolling bin (like the one pictured below) and then throw myself head first in the pile, luxuriating in the heavenly soft coziness radiating heat and clean soapy smells, with my legs sticking up in the air. (Yes, take a moment and picture me in all my ridiculous glory. Yes, go ahead, point and laugh.) After I got my fill, I'd get up and start folding. I got really good at folding king size sheets by myself without letting any of the edges touch the floor. (Another one of my myriad special talents.)

When I was getting my BFA, I had to take 2 textile science classes. One chapter focused on stain removal on different fibers. Do I remember any of it? Nope. I just remember my friend A telling me to use club soda to lift stuff off my carpet. What I do remember the most from those classes is 1. I suck at knitting. No, really. I tried to pay my then-stepmother to knit me a sample for class, but she wouldn't. Evil woman, making me do my own homework. Hrmph. and 2. To do burn tests for fibers. When I worked at Eva Fortune, people were always trying to swindle us into buying cheaper silks, which were actually polyesters. I'd politely ask for swatches, and then my boss and I would go out back and burn a little corner to check before purchase. (If it bubbles and melts into a little bead, it's polyester. Silk actually burns.)

When I still lived at home, I had to do the house laundry. And when I moved out, I had a roommate who would rather buy more underwear than do laundry, so hers just piled up all over the place. Then she would beg and beg me to do hers when I was doing mine and she'd buy the groceries for the week. The last straw was when I came home to catch her borrowing my underwear. EEEEW!!!

Needless to say, I hate doing laundry now. But, God has smiled upon me and sent me a lovely boy who doesn't mind doing it. When he found out how much I hate doing laundry, he told me he'd take over from then on. (Insert me gloating here.) I haven't done laundry in over a year.

I don't touch the laundry. And I don't feel compelled to pull something out to wear right after. I just love the sight of fresh laundry I didn't do, neatly folded and put in piles to put away. If anything, I like to pull out my bathrobe. It's ginormous. I have a friend with a hot tub and I was over there soaking one day and asked for a towel and he handed me his robe. He's a big guy, so his robe was enormous on me, and the terrycloth is superthick. I jokingly told him I was going to keep it and he seriously told me I could. It's become my blankie, since the loft is rather drafty.

What does this say about me? That I hate doing laundry? That I like orderliness and don't like to touch/ruffle anything that's pristinely put together? (I do have rather anal-retentive tendencies.) I like cleanliness? I like being warm? I should live in a place with better central heating? I have generous friends? I like comfort?

Hey, Miz S, bust out with that DSM IV and tell me.